(There would me some dull and depressed circles on the page, along with the same of dark circles scribbles in, what one would see from testing a pen for ink)

So it’s been roughly a month since I last wrote in this thing, and only found out now the pen I had got washed pretty goo in last months rain storm, had to roll around the ball point a bit to get the damn thing workin’ again.

There’s been a lot of shit going on, cargo ship beached itself a while ago and brought a horde of unwanted guests, probably either the crew of the thing, or a vessel that was full of survivors, but a biter or infected got abroad. Either way, it was fucked, and now it’s half-sunk and even more fucked, brought some shipping crates full of usable things though, but anything that’s usable already seems to be gone, so what remains is damaged by saltwater, and that shit corrodes like you wouldn’t believe. Along with that, the island itself got fucked too, apparently a hurricane somehow made it’s way this far North and threw around trash, took out some of the walls at The Eights that have since been repaired, and I think I saw a biter fly by my window during the time.

What else. . . Oh yeah, everyone seems to be making like Bears and stocking up for the Winter, I’m actually expecting to see snow and have already gotten to work on getting ready for it. Got loads of food, got my balaclava out from the bottom of my backpack, and found a good pair of goggles and a helmet off a walker that looked to be National Guard, or was at least, his face was half-gone from the decay, it’s getting nasty folks. The skin on the walkers isn’t really connected anymore, it’s actually starting to slide off and it’s funny too so see some walkers look like Turkeys.

As of now, I’m just sitting here in the forest next to a goat that just met my hatchet, buried it into the back of his neck and his eyes are still moving, so that’s unsettling. Poor guy is a quadriplegic and is just watching me write. . .

(blood splatter would appear below this point of the page)

I think he’s dead now. Would be a good time to skin him for meat and get away before something, or someone meaner comes along.

See you next time journal.